Team Mates
by Boogum
Summary: He wasn't her friend—not even her frenemy—but even if he was a bona fide snob and had called her flat-chested, he was still her team mate. That counted for something.
1. Chapter 1

This story was written for **rowan-greenleaf** in _**The DG Forum's Fic Exchange – Winter 2015**_. It won the award for Best Kiss, which was honestly kind of a surprise. Still, not going to complain.

For those of you who have read this before, be prepared for quite a lot of new additions (and, by that, I mean chapters). For those who are new to the story, I hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

Ginny kept her head low, wind whistling in her ears. The rain was pounding on her back, her face, blurring her vision. Colours were beginning to blur into one, making it difficult to discern who was on what team. She gritted her teeth, keeping the Quaffle tucked under her arm. Suddenly, a black ball came rushing for her face. A quick breath, a tug on her broom, and then she was spiralling through the air, just missing the Bludger, and then righting herself all before she had exhaled. The crowd roared in her ears, mixed in with the howling of the wind.

"Look at Weasley go!" the commentator's voice echoed around the stadium. "It's like nothing can stop this girl!"

Ginny's mouth curved into a smug smile. Damn straight. Not for nothing was she the star player of the Hogwarts inter-school team.

"Got your back, Weasley!" Ritchie Coot shouted in encouragement, then used his cudgel to send the other Bludger that had been tailing her whizzing off in another direction.

She put on a burst of speed, dipping and then looping right over the row of opposing Chasers. A second later the Quaffle was soaring through the middle hoop and the spectators wearing the Hogwarts' uniform were cheering and stamping their feet. Ginny shared a hi-five with Demelza Robins, her fellow Chaser, and then took her position to resume the game. Unfortunately, her elation didn't last long. The rain started getting heavier, making it even harder to see. She noticed that a lot of the bleaches were empty now with only a few diehard fans still watching the game. Most of the spectators had cast rain shield charms over themselves, so it looked like the stadium was filled with giant bubble people.

"Why don't they call a timeout already?" Zacharias Smith muttered not far from Ginny. "I can't see jack in this rain."

"Focus on the game!" she snapped. "We need another forty points if we want to qualify for the championship finals. Even if Malfoy catches the Snitch right now, we'll be outranked without those points."

He glowered at her but didn't argue.

That was when the crowd suddenly let out a loud, unified gasp. Distracted, Ginny turned just in time to see a bedraggled figure in black flying hot on the heels of another person clad in red.

"No!"

She glanced at the score board. It was too soon. They still needed forty more points.

CRACK!

Draco suddenly swerved off course, clutching at his left arm where a Bludger had struck. Just like that it was over. The Japanese Seeker was waving his fist in the air, clutching the tiny golden ball that was still weakly fluttering its wings. A horn blew, signalling the end of the match. The visitors from Mahoutokoro School of Magic cheered wildly and rushed to bombard their team, who were all hugging each other and babbling in Japanese. For Ginny, it just seemed like some horrible dream from which she couldn't wake.

"We lost," she said in a dazed voice. "We actually lost."

Zacharias made a disgusted sound. "I'm going to have a shower. There's no point sticking around here."

Ginny glared at him, but he was already descending for the changing rooms. She turned her head and spotted the rest of her miserable looking team gathering on the pitch to shake hands with the Mahoutokoro players, as was custom. Draco Malfoy was being attended to by the stand-by healer. Sighing, she flew down to join her team. Time to play the humble loser.

**oOo**

Endymion was not happy. The Ravenclaw teen had been their captain for two months now (perhaps McGonagall had thought the logically driven boy would have a calming influence on the team), but right now he just looked annoyed. Very annoyed. His curly black hair was sticking up all over the place, as if he had run his hands through the damp strands too many times. There was also an angry flush staining his otherwise handsome face. It would have been entertaining had Ginny not recognised that these were the warning signs of a captain's tirade.

"What the hell was that, Smith?" Endymion demanded, looking a little alarming considering he was still holding his Beater's bat. "Do you know how rude you made us look when you left the pitch like that?"

Zacharias opened his mouth to retort, but Endymion was on a roll. He didn't care if Zacharias was descended from Helga Hufflepuff, the Queen of England, or a bloody celestial being that farted rainbows and lived in a house made of gold. Such behaviour was intolerable, and they did not need some selfish, ill-mannered prick ruining their reputation in front of Mahoutokoro. On and on the lecture went, with most of the other team members exchanging awkward or amused glances. Ritchie Coot was leaning on his broom with a glazed-eyed expression, while Draco Malfoy was—

Wait, why was Draco Malfoy staring at her?

Ginny had to take a double-glance to make sure she wasn't imagining things. The blond sat with enviable grace for someone who was drenched head to foot and wearing bulky Quidditch gear. One of his elbows rested on his knee and he had his chin propped on his palm. His blond hair fell in damp strands around his face and was beginning to curl at the tips, which should have made him look cute and boyish except it didn't. His features were too angular and sharp for such mundane descriptions. Draco Malfoy was a boy on the cusp of manhood, and his face made that clear in every chiselled edge. She hated to admit it, but he was kind of beautiful in a harsh way, like a blade that you had to be careful holding. No wonder people had a hard time trusting him. Heck, even his eyes were like steel: cool and appraising.

And, yes, he was definitely staring at her.

Ginny raised her chin at the blond. His eyebrow quirked slightly, though she wasn't sure what _that_ was supposed to mean. A challenge? Amusement? Mockery? Stupid Malfoys and their stupid, indecipherable Eyebrow Language.

She folded her arms and averted her face. Let him stare at her if he wanted. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of returning the attention. Git. Fortunately, Endymion chose that moment to finish his 'Zacharias Smith is a Twat' rant. After thoroughly ripping the Hufflepuff's character to shreds, he finished by saying that Zacharias would be on the bench for the rest of the season. No buts.

"I don't care if you are the best Chaser Hufflepuff has," Endymion continued. "Pull another stunt like that and you're off the team."

Zacharias's normally haughty expression had long ago turned sour, but now it looked as if he had just been forced to swallow a dozen lemons. Ginny wanted to laugh (served the prick right), but then Endymion rounded on her. Apparently, she hadn't been passing the Quaffle enough to the other Chasers.

"You can't always be the star," he said bluntly. "We could have scored more points if you weren't hogging the ball all the time."

Ginny blinked. "Wait a minute—"

Endymion ignored her. "And you—" he said, turning to face Draco Malfoy. "What happened out there? You were supposed to be keeping Ichiko away from the Snitch."

Draco's eyebrow lifted a fraction. "Oh, I don't know, Inglebee. I kind of got distracted when a Bludger broke my arm."

There was an awkward pause as everyone stared at the captain, who was still holding his Beater's bat. Ritchie Coot tried to hide himself behind Demelza, which was hilarious in itself since she was only five foot tall.

Endymion's cheeks went a bit pink. "I'm sorry you got hurt. The rain made it hard to see the Bludgers."

Draco's voice remained cool. "Exactly. Everyone made mistakes."

_So stop running us down as if we're entirely to blame for this loss and start acting like a real captain._

The unspoken words were loud and clear. Ginny was reluctantly impressed. Draco had always been a bit of a wild card when it came to their team: the token Slytherin, as Ritchie liked to call him. He was arrogant, judgemental, and self-centred. Still, every now and then he'd come out with a comment that made her realise he had matured a lot since the war had ended. At the very least, she now viewed him as a conceited git rather than just an evil git.

Endymion shifted on his feet. "Uh, right. Well, I guess we'll just leave it at that."

The curly-haired boy declared the meeting closed. In an unspoken agreement, the team went off their separate ways: the males heading to the room on the left while Ginny and Demelza got the female showers all to themselves. The two girls chatted about the match as they washed, complaining about the weather and how much they hated Zacharias Smith.

"I'm glad he's been placed as a reserve," Demelza said, lathering her body with soap. "I can't stand the guy."

"Me either," Ginny agreed.

She'd lost count of the number of times she had hexed him just to get him to shut his stupid mouth. Once, she'd even dive bombed him when he had commentated a Quidditch match and wouldn't stop picking on the Gryffindor team.

"I suppose Cadwallader will replace him," Demelza said without enthusiasm.

"Probably," Ginny said, turning off the shower and wringing the water out of her hair.

She could understand Demelza's lack of excitement. Graham Cadwallader was a nice enough guy, but he was by no means a looker. His personality was also about as interesting as a plank of wood. Unfortunately, after Zacharias, he was the next best Chaser that Hogwarts could boast.

Demelza reached for the shampoo. "Well, either way, I'm glad Malfoy managed to calm Endymion down. I thought he was going to start on me next." She shuddered theatrically. "I hate it when he yells."

Ginny made a humming sound of agreement.

The little brunette frowned. "Are you even listening to me?"

Ginny blinked. "What?"

Demelza just sighed. "Never mind."

The redhead just shrugged and dried herself with her towel, then rummaged through her stuff for fresh clothes. That was when she realised she had left her bag out in the locker room. All she had was her gross, sweaty Quidditch gear.

"Bollocks," she cursed.

She didn't even have her wand to summon the stuff. Sighing in resignation, Ginny wrapped her towel firmly around her body and then sprinted into the locker room straight for her locker. Speed was of the essence here; a grab and dash, as it were. Unfortunately, the locker room was already occupied—and she had just collided with a boy's chest.

Warm hands gripped her arms, stabilising her so that she didn't slip backwards. Ginny sucked in a sharp breath and raised her head to meet a pair of steely grey eyes. Bollocks. Of course, it had to be him.

"Thanks," she muttered, lowering her gaze and trying desperately not to blush. If only the ground would just swallow her whole.

Draco released her arms, though she could still feel the imprint of his touch on her skin as if his hands had been charged with little jolts of electricity. "You should watch where you're going next time."

Her cheeks blossomed with pink. "Excuse me?"

The blond exhaled in a bored sort of way. "It's called using your eyes, Weasley. You know, those two things in that thick skull of yours that let you see?"

Ginny clenched her hands into fists. "I know what eyes are, you idiot."

"Then try using them. You'll be doing everyone a favour."

Her breasts rose and fell as she took an angry breath. "You—you're so—ugh! I was in a hurry, okay? I'm sorry if I banged into your precious self, but I had other things on my mind."

"I gathered that." He examined her from head to toe, and she felt her blush spreading in splotchy pink down her chest. "Speaking of which, do you often make a habit of prancing around in a towel?"

"I was not prancing," she retorted, raising her chin. "Besides, if you really must know, I accidently left my bag in here with my change of clothes. _You_ were not supposed to be in here."

"Whatever," Draco said dismissively. "It's not like there's much to see anyway."

Ginny's blush darkened. She opened and closed her mouth a few times in a futile attempt to create words, but her frustration was as effective as a _Silencio_ charm. In the end, all she could do was glare at his retreating figure.

"Insufferable git," she muttered.

Her chest was _not_ flat. Sure, she wasn't sporting bouncy mangos like Daphne Greengrass, but her breasts were perfectly adequate for a girl of her size, thank you very much. Still, it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious. She frowned down at the soft mounds covered by her towel, suddenly second-guessing herself.

"Oh, whatever!" she snapped. "I don't care if Draco Malfoy thinks my boobs are small."

With these words, she snatched up her bag and headed back into the female changing room. All boys—especially pointy-faced, blond ones—could go to hell.

**oOo**

Time was dragging. Ginny sat with her face half-squashed against her palm, suppressing yawns at every odd moment. Muggle Studies was so boring. Her father might find the subject fascinating, but she couldn't care less about learning how Muggles moved large objects, communicated, or lived their day-to-day lives without magic. Unfortunately, the Ministry of Magic did not agree. Once the war had ended, those who had come back to Hogwarts had discovered that Muggle Studies was now compulsory for anyone from a pureblood or non-Muggle influenced family. Apparently, it was supposed to foster understanding so wizards and witches could bridge the barriers between magic and non-magic folk … or something like that.

She glanced to her left and saw that Ritchie Coot was wearing his usual glazed-eyed expression. He obviously wasn't sold by the Ministry's plan to educate the masses in how not to be bigoted either. The only time he ever looked animated was during meal times or when he was on the pitch.

_Typical Quidditch-mad boy._

On Ginny's right, Luna was furiously scribbling notes. That was different … until the redhead actually read the words written on the parchment:

_The Blithering Bumblemont tends to accumulate in classrooms, snatching productive thoughts and motivation from its victims. There are many in Muggle Studies today. This is the perfect opportunity to study the fluffy creatures; I just need to find a student to act as my case study—_

Ginny repressed a snort and glanced away from Luna's notes. Definitely nothing to do with cranes and telephones.

She knew where her gaze wanted to go next. It had been happening ever since she had caught Draco Malfoy staring at her during the after-match meeting earlier that day, like an itch that was difficult to resist scratching. It wasn't that she _liked_ him. There was just a paranoid, frustrated part of her that needed to make sure he wasn't still staring at her—especially after their awkward encounter in the locker room. Call it a thirst for closure. Either way, she had to know.

_Ah, just a peek can't hurt_.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder to the third desk behind her where she knew the blond would be sitting. His head was bent over his book, quill moving in fine, steady strokes. Right. Well—well, that was good that he was paying attention to his work. It wasn't like she wanted him to look at her anyway.

She folded her arms across her chest and, quite unconsciously, began tapping her foot against the ground. Luna leaned over and asked her if she was hangry.

"What?" Ginny said, blinking in confusion.

"You know, hangry: hungry and angry," the blonde explained in her dreamy voice. "You just seemed upset, and I notice it's usually because you're hungry."

Ginny scowled. "I'm not hungry."

"I am," Ritchie interposed, rubbing a hand over his stomach. "I'm so hungry that even Professor Trentham's hair looks like a big, fluffy marshmallow."

The two girls frowned as they glanced from the Gryffindor boy to the elderly lady lecturing at the front of the classroom. She was so forgetful and dotty that most of the students had fondly named her Binns 2.0, which Ginny thought was a bit unfair. At least in Binns' classroom you could fall asleep and he wouldn't even notice. Trentham might be losing her marbles, but she still expected a certain level of respect and attention from her students.

Luna tilted her head to the side. "I don't know," she said seriously, "I think her hair looks like a tea cosy."

Ginny just pinched the bridge of her nose. This is what her life had come to: discussing whether her teacher's hair was an edible substance or something to keep a teapot warm. Suddenly, a folded piece of paper landed on her desk. She frowned and glanced around, but no one was looking at her. With a shrug, she unfolded the note and read the chicken-scratch script:

_I notice you like riding broomsticks. I've got a length of hard wood for you in my dorm if you wanna take a spin. ;)_

_Circle -Yes or No_

Ginny's cheeks flushed. "Terry!"

She'd know that scribbly writing anywhere—especially since he was so pedantic that he had to have perfect grammar even when he was trying to be someone else. As she expected, the Ravenclaw boy burst out laughing and hi-fived his neighbour. Those little gits. Before Ginny could even realise what was happening, the juvenile note was being taken out of her grasp by a wrinkled hand.

"Something to share, Miss Wathly?" Professor Trentham asked, frowning down through her spectacles at the redhead.

Ginny's eyes bugged wide. For the first time, she didn't bother to correct her name. "Um, professor, I don't think you want to rea—"

Too late.

The professor read the note aloud in her reedy voice, ignoring the giggles from the other students. Ginny noticed that Draco Malfoy wasn't laughing, but he was looking at her again with those steely, intense eyes of his. She didn't know why that made a flicker of satisfaction curl in her stomach.

_Gods, maybe I do love to be the centre of attention._

A frown wrinkled Professor Trentham's already crevassed face. "Please save Quidditch talk for the pitch, Miss Wathly. This is not the place for discussions of broomsticks or for you to be passing notes."

More giggles and snorts. Ginny bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing. Poor Professor Trentham. If only she knew the innuendo behind the broomstick talk. Thankfully, the professor dropped the matter and instead began splitting them into pairs for a practical. Apparently, they were going to make toast with a toaster to understand how electricity works. Goodie.

Ginny rested her chin on her hand as she waited for her partner to be assigned. A chair scraped loudly against the floor somewhere next to her, and she turned to see Terry Boot take the free seat.

"So, was that a yes or no to the broom ride?" he asked in a voice that would have been utterly deadpan had she not noticed the teasing glint in his eyes.

"You are such a prick!" she hissed, hitting him on the arm.

He smiled charmingly. "Admit it. You found it funny."

"It was not funny. You got me in trouble!"

"Sureee. That's why you're trying not to smile."

Ginny covered a hand over her mouth, which was indeed twitching into the beginnings of a grin. Damn it all.

Terry leaned closer. "Actually, it was Anthony's idea to write the note. I think he fancies you. Probably is hoping for a private broom ride."

They both sniggered, even as something clattered loudly behind them. Ginny turned to see Draco Malfoy cursing under his breath and picking up the metal contraption that he had just knocked over. It struck her as unlike him to be clumsy, but before she could ponder the matter further, Terry was speaking again.

"Wish that guy hadn't come back to Hogwarts," he muttered.

Ginny glanced around the room, wondering who had caught her friend's ire. "Who?"

"Malfoy."

Some of the amusement faded in her eyes. She chanced a peek over her shoulder at the table where Draco and Luna were working. Oops. He was staring back at her. Awkward.

Terry pursed his lips in a sour expression, quite oblivious to Ginny's Look Away contest with the Slytherin. "Still can't believe they let him in after everything he and his family had done, let alone put him on the inter-school Quidditch team. That guy is bad news. Should have put him in Azkaban with all the rest of those Death Eater scum."

Ginny's fingers curled to form a fist. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, everyone knows that his family were supporters of You-Know-Who." Terry waved his hand in an irritated gesture. "Their manor was practically the Death Eaters' headquarters during the war. I bet he sat there torturing people side-by-side with his daddy Death Eater and crazy aunt."

Her knuckles burned white. She didn't want to get angry at Terry. He had been the one to revive Dumbledore's Army last year when the Death Eaters had taken over the school. He had also been punished for it by the Carrows, sick and twisted as they were. She knew the Ravenclaw boy was still bitter and carried a lot of resentment, but Draco wasn't like those other people who had supported Voldemort during the war. She had seen the transformation—seen how the blond had matured and just wanted to focus on getting his qualifications and moving on with his life.

That was why people like Terry and Draco were still here, after all. Technically, their last year at Hogwarts had been during the time that Snape had been headmaster. However, so many of the Seventh Years had been removed from school or else just got so caught up in the war that it had seemed only fair to give those students another opportunity to complete their NEWTS. On top of that, the board had also introduced the inter-school Quidditch cup. Ginny wasn't sure if the Ministry were just trying to create a nice distraction or if it was an attempt to forge ties with other schools so as to avoid another Death Eater uprising. Either way, the best Quidditch Players from each House were handpicked to form the official Hogwarts Quidditch team, and she and Draco had been two of the main seven chosen.

Thinking about it now, Ginny had to wonder if she would have half as much tolerance for the blond had she not been forced to get to know him more during practice. Not that it really mattered now. He wasn't her friend—not even her frenemy—but even if he was a bona fide snob and had called her flat-chested, he was still her team mate. That counted for something. Either way, she definitely wasn't going to put up with this nonsense.

"Look, Terry," she said bluntly, "I get you're still caught up in that 'all Slytherins are evil' mentality, but you're just going to have to get over it. Draco is a student here, just like everyone else. More than that, he's also my team mate and the best damn Seeker this school has now that Harry has left." She meet Terry's gaze squarely. "So if you wanna say bad stuff about him, then you're going to have to deal with me!"

Another clatter. Ginny continued to star at Terry, daring him to argue. He didn't.

She picked up the instruction sheet on her desk. "Alright, enough chitchat. Let's make some damn toast."

**oOo**

Ginny readjusted her bag strap so that it sat more comfortably on her shoulder. Leaving Muggle Studies had felt like being released from some hundred year imprisonment—and not just because it was the last class for the day. She had never felt so relieved to get away from Terry Boot, which was kind of sad since they had become good friends over the past year and a half. Still, friend or not, she hated hearing people take a dig at her team mates (unless that person was Zacharias Smith, in which case she couldn't give two figs). Draco was different, though. Hardly any of his friends had come back for the make-up year, and—

A hand suddenly latched around her wrist, pulling her irresistibly away from the staircase. She made a muffled noise of surprise and just caught a glimpse of a white-button down shirt and tie—clearly male—before she was shoved into an alcove behind an ugly tapestry. Her breath came short and fast. She reached for her wand, hexes rising to the tip of her tongue, only to pause as she found herself meeting a pair of steely grey eyes.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" she demanded. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Draco's expression remained unreadable. She kept waiting for him to speak and explain why he had been trying to play 'Scare the Weasley' on the staircase, but he just kept staring as if he was trying to get inside her head. Honestly, it was a bit creepy.

"Uhh, okay," she said slowly. "Well, this awkward silence has been great, but I'm going to go now."

She turned to leave.

"Wait."

Ginny placed a hand on her hip. "Oh, you're speaking to me now?"

Draco's jaw tightened. "I want to know why you stood up for me."

A faint tinge of colour bloomed on her cheeks. "You were listening?"

"Bit hard not to when your voice is so loud," he said with a shrug that would have made ballerinas weep. A freaking shrug.

Ginny's blush darkened. She wanted to tell him that her conversation with Terry had been private and he shouldn't have been eavesdropping (because her voice wasn't that loud, damn it), but another part of her just felt small and vulnerable, like she had been caught in her towel all over again. He wasn't supposed to have heard her sticking up for him. Oh gods, he definitely wasn't supposed to have heard her call him the best Seeker the school could boast.

Yip, ground swallowing her whole right now would be awesome.

Draco stepped closer, invading her personal space. Her back brushed against the cold stone of the wall and she felt her breath catch. Suddenly his hands were on either side of her face, boxing her in. She could smell his cologne: woodsy and mysterious and cool at the same time, daring her to get closer. Seriously, why did he have to smell so good? This was not helping her to live up to her 'Be the Immovable Rock' mantra.

Ginny swallowed and tilted her head to meet his gaze. She couldn't seem to find her voice.

"You still haven't answered my question," Draco reminded her.

His voice was deep velvet sliding across her skin, like an invisible caress. She was suddenly aware of her heart thudding against her ribs.

"I—" she began croakily, then swallowed and tried again. "It was nothing. We're team mates, that's all. I stick up for my team mates."

Draco stared at her intently. He was so close that she could see that his irises weren't just cool steel: there were also storm clouds and tiny flecks of blue, as if every mood of the sky was captured in his eyes. She wondered if it was a reflection of his own mercurial personality.

"Hm," was all Draco said, stepping back so that he was no longer crowding her space. She realised that she had been holding her breath. "Well, I guess I should thank you."

Ginny waved her hand dismissively. "Don't mention it."

His mouth curled into a little smirk. "You're right. You really don't deserve my gratitude. In fact, you should be apologising to me."

A scowl fixed itself to her face. "What?"

"You said that Potter is a better Seeker than me." His eyes gleamed. "I take offence to that."

Ginny just rolled her eyes. And there was the Draco Malfoy she knew: cocky to the last. He didn't bother to wait for her response and gave her a lazy wave before strolling out from behind the tapestry, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to manhandle girls and have secret conversations with them behind tapestries.

Honestly, she was never going to understand that boy.

* * *

**Rowan's Prompt (3)**

**Basic premise:**Draco and Ginny play on the same Quidditch team.

**Must haves:**In character Ginny and Draco. Banter, snark. Classic fire-and-ice D/G dynamic. Description of at least one Quidditch match. Firewhisky.

**No-no's:**OOC-ness.

**Rating range:**Any.

**Bonus points:**Either Draco or Ginny unexpectedly standing up for the other because they are on the same team. Shirtless!Draco. A dare. MAGIC! If you get creative and make this Hogwarts era somehow.


	2. Chapter 2

I apologise to those who were looking forward to reading the expanded version of this story. Unfortunately, due to my schedule and my decision to focus on original writing, it is unlikely I will ever get the time to complete the additional chapters I had planned. As such, I will be posting this story as it was uploaded for the exchange.

* * *

Ginny jogged onto the pitch with an apple clenched between her teeth, looking frazzled as she struggled to hold her bag, broom and water bottle. Most of the team were already assembled on the grass, chatting or listening to music on the wireless as they waited for Endymion to start their practice routine. Billy Fletcher wolf-whistled at her when he spotted her coming towards the group.

"Lookin' good, Weasley," he called out, giving her an exaggerated thumbs up.

She rolled her eyes, though a part of her was secretly pleased. Yes, she could admit it. She was shallow enough to enjoy flattery, even when it came from the boy she had fondly labelled the Keeper Who Was Not A Keeper. But her outfit genuinely had been chosen for comfort rather than to gratify her team mates' ogling eyes. The day was already muggy, making the air thick and like she was wearing several jumpsuits. So she had donned her favourite cotton shorts and a grey workout top that her mother would have definitely disapproved of for the amount of midriff and skin it displayed. Still, at least she wasn't dying of heat.

"Mornin', Ginny," Ritchie said with a salute.

She nodded in greeting, managing to dislodge her apple in the process. Fortunately, the lanky Gryffindor caught the half-eaten fruit before it could land on the ground. Unfortunately, he then put it in his own mouth and took a big bite.

"Cheers," he said in between mouthfuls of apple.

"That was my breakfast," Ginny complained.

Ritchie spread his hands in an innocent way. "Hey, you know what they say: those who can't hold their fruit shouldn't have it in the first place."

"That's what they say about alcohol, you idiot."

Ritchie just shrugged. "Same thing. The consumption of fruit is serious business."

Ginny just sighed and tossed her broom and water bottle on the ground. Short of forcing his mouth open and snatching the apple from Ritchie, she knew she wasn't getting her breakfast back. Best just to cut her losses now.

"Where's our morale-inspiring captain?" she asked, gathering her hair into one red fistful and putting it in a high ponytail.

Billy pointed towards the shed. "Trying to find his balls."

The other boys sniggered. Again, Ginny rolled her eyes. With six older brothers, she was used to conversations being laced with innuendos—most of which usually involved some kind of male appendage. It wasn't offensive or upsetting to her, but that didn't stop the jokes from growing old. Suddenly, she wished that Demelza had been able to come to practice. Ginny could have done with some female companionship to balance the sausage fest.

Ignoring her team mates, she walked over to the shed and found Endymion wrestling with a Bludger on the ground as he tried to get the vicious ball into the box of Quidditch equipment.

"See you were getting some early practice in," she observed.

"Yeah, I—" The Bludger knocked him in the chin. Endymion let out a word that sounded a lot like buck.

Ginny repressed a smile. "Need some help?"

He grunted something that might have been a no and then, with another grunt, got the ball inside its designated spot. Quick as a flash, he slammed the latch down to lock the Bludger in place and then closed the box. Endymion flashed a grin at her. Mission accomplished.

She contemplated giving him the sarcastic clap, but the Ravenclaw didn't have much of a sense of humour and would probably just think she was mocking him to be mean. As such, she cut right down to business.

"Demelza's sick," Ginny said, while the Ravenclaw picked himself up from the ground. "Got some kind of virus. She's in the Hospital Wing being treated now."

Endymion nodded. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Hey, Endy!" someone—probably Billy—shouted from outside the shed. "Did you find your balls yet?"

A light flush stained Endymion's cheeks. He muttered something under his breath about immature housemates and then stomped out of the shed, levitating the box of equipment along with him. Ginny followed at a much slower pace, a half-smile playing on her lips. Okay, so she could admit the joke was funnier when combined with Endymion's reaction. Of course, they were all likely to be punished for the mockery.

True to form, Endymion wasted no time in getting the team to stop mucking around and start their warm-up routine. Ginny didn't let her captain's surly attitude bother her, though. She had just noticed that Draco had finally deigned to join them, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the group of boys with his shock of white-blond hair. She couldn't help but glance his way a few more times as they went through the different stretches, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame. It was strange. Like the other boys, he was just wearing shorts and a singlet—nothing too flashy—but then none of the other boys had made her stomach give a little flip upon seeing them. Not even Cadwallader, who was big, buff and shirtless.

Ginny managed to peel her gaze away from the blond, forcing herself to instead focus on counting the seconds before she needed to change to the next stretch. It didn't work. Ever since that day Draco had pulled her behind the tapestry, she had found herself thinking of him more and more. He was like a star shining on the edge of her thoughts, not as consuming as a sun, but still bright enough to cause a distraction. Now, watching the way his body rippled and moved, all sleek and toned like a wild cat, she found herself very distracted indeed. All she could think about was the way her breath had caught when he had pressed her against the wall that day, hands planted on either side of her face; of the energy that had surged between them, and the blood that had throbbed in her ears in time to the beat of her heart.

Grey eyes met chocolate brown. Ginny flushed and averted her face, feeling awkward that he had caught her looking. Well, gawking was probably a more accurate word.

Endymion blew his whistle. "Alright, get in your rows. We're gonna do sit-ups. "

Ginny bit her lip. "Um, Demelza isn't here."

There were ten of them on the team all together, including the three substitutes. She always paired with Demelza for this part of the warm-up, but now she had no partner.

Endymion frowned and scanned the students, pausing on Zacharias. "Where's Summerby?"

"Detention," Zacharias said with a shrug.

"What?" Billy exclaimed in mock-surprise. "A Hufflepuff on detention? Surely not!"

Cadwallader frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm surrounded by idiots," he muttered, more to himself. His steely gaze focussed on the captain. "Look, I'll just take Weasley as my partner since Summerby and I normally go together. It's not a big deal."

Endymion shrugged. "Makes sense. Alright, give me fifty sit-ups each."

The team dispersed to their designated pairs, forming two rows. Ginny sat down opposite Draco on the grass. Her body felt like a toaster that had just been inserted into a plug socket: all charged and ready to go. Speaking of which, it kind of terrified her that she had even thought up that analogy. Clearly, she was managing to learn Muggle Studies through osmosis; her note-taking certainly hadn't been helping her to understand the intricacies of electrical flow.

"Ready?" she asked, shifting her ponytail over her shoulder.

For answer, he linked his legs with hers, creating a 'lock' of sorts so their feet and lower legs wouldn't rise as they did their sit ups. Ginny was glad she had shaved her legs that morning –then promptly scolded herself for thinking something so shallow. Damn that blond pillock for making her so self-conscious.

"Ladies first," he said, inclining his head in a mock bow.

Ginny poked her tongue at him and then lay back against the grass, arms resting loosely against her chest. A second later, she was forcing her upper-body up until she and Draco were at eye level again. They locked gazes for a brief, intense moment, and then he was mirroring her actions: first laying flat against the grass, then rising to meet her eyes, and all the while their legs remained locked together.

She swallowed, conscious of the tingles travelling through her body. Gods, how was she going to survive fifty of these? Every time he met her gaze, she felt something hot curl inside her, like petals unfurling. Her pulse quickened. This was all too intimate, too unnerving.

"You're quiet," Draco observed after a while.

"Just keeping count," Ginny lied.

"Hmph."

More silence. Ginny wished she could shut her eyes to block out the intensity of his gaze, but that would look a bit weird on her part. It was a huge relief when she heard the whistle blow.

"Alright, everyone get your brooms!" Endymion barked, looking exactly like a drill sergeant. "We're going to do five laps around the pitch. Coot, this isn't a wrestling match; stop trying to put Fletcher in a head-lock and take your position!"

Ginny got to her feet a little too hastily, moving straight for her broom. Draco either chose not to comment or just didn't care that she was being about as awkward as Hagrid on a first date. Maybe he was used to girls acting nervous in his presence. Ugh, that just made her feel even more pathetic. The last thing she wanted was to be seen as a fan-girl groupie.

"Think you can keep up, Weasley?" Draco taunted.

Her eyes narrowed. Any remaining butterfly flips and tingles vanished in an instant.

"Please, Malfoy," she responded. "You're going to be eating my broom's dust."

He chuckled softly and mounted his broom beside her. They stood waiting for the signal to go, eyes fixed straight ahead. The shrill whistle blew and a second later she was in the air, zooming ahead in a streak of flaming red hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco flying neck-in-neck with her. The rest of the team were not far behind, all trying their best to get in front.

The laps hadn't been designed as a competition; the players were only meant to be increasing their flying stamina and speed, but put seven teenagers in the same pitch together and tell them to do five laps and it would inevitably become a race. It was Ginny's favourite part of practice, if only because she loved rubbing it in the boys' faces when she won (though Demelza was their reigning champion). Once upon a time, Ginny would have had no chance in beating the boys, let alone Draco. She had only ever borrowed school brooms or hand-me-downs from her brothers, having to rely on skill and her slight build in Quidditch matches rather than speed. Now she didn't have to worry so much. That was the bonus of having been signed on as a player for the Hogwarts Quidditch team; everyone on the team had been issued a Firebolt.

The Firebolt was doing its work now.

Ginny kept her body as low as possible, as if she were trying to meld with the wooden handle, trying to reduce as much resistance as possible. Her ponytail whipped around her in streams of red. She chanced a glance to her right and was horrified to see Draco inching ahead.

"I thought you said you were going to make me eat your broom's dust?" he remarked, smirking in that infuriating way of his.

"Bite me!"

He laughed, but Ginny just gritted her teeth and urged her broom to go faster, pushing the magic that allowed the broom to fly to its limits. She refused to lose—at least not to Draco.

"Woop, woop!" Billy shouted, distracting her enough to glance his way. He was spinning round and round like water draining down a plug. Weirdo.

Ginny dismissed the Keeper. Out of everyone, Billy never took the laps very seriously. As he put it, he just chilled with his "hoopy peeps" until the Quaffle came down his side of the pitch; trying to be Speedy Gonzales didn't seem a huge priority, whatever that meant. She never understood his Muggle references.

Another person crept up on her left. She sensed rather than saw that it was Ritchie. Great, now she was trapped between the two boys. Fortunately, the lanky Gryffindor didn't last long; he took a turn too hard and ended up losing speed. That was all Ginny and Draco needed to leave him behind.

They circled around the hoops and then past Endymion in a blur of colours. Now there was only one lap left. She and Draco were so close that their knees knocked against each other. Every now and then one of them would get ahead, but the other would catch up a split-second later. Ginny had never realised how well-matched they were in terms of flying skill. It was like they were mirror images of each other; only one was a frustratingly handsome blond and the other was a freckled redhead.

She wasn't surprised when they ended up tying for first place (even though she insisted that her broom had been at least a centimetre ahead). Draco raised his eyebrow.

"You must be seeing things," he said calmly. "My broom was definitely in front."

Ginny glowered at him and probably would have argued the matter had the shrill sound of the whistle not caught her attention. The rest of the team had finished their laps.

She didn't get much chance to speak to Draco after that. Endymion had divided them into groups to practice their set drills, which meant that she got stuck with Zacharias, Graham and Billy to focus specifically on passing, shooting and catching. The rest of the team were with Endymion. After that, it was Dodge Rolls, which basically meant flying to the other side of the pitch without getting hit while having things thrown at her, including Bludgers. Demelza was normally the best at that drill as well, but Ginny didn't think she did too shabbily. Most days. Her smaller build definitely helped.

By the end of practice, Ginny was tired and ready to have a shower. She took a long drink of her water, conscious of the sweat sticking to her skin.

"Good practice, Weasley," Endymion said, clapping her on the shoulder.

She smiled and thanked him, only to be accosted by Billy who was running around the team and demanding a fist bump from each of them.

"You are so bizarre," she told the Muggle-born, but obliged him in his wish all the same. It had become a bit of a tradition in their team, truth be told. Draco was the only one who had refused to be part of the little fist bump gang. Hadn't stopped Billy from trying to recruit the blond, though.

"What are you afraid of, Malfoy?" she teased, raising her eyebrows at him. "Someone might think you look stupid? Cause, hate to break it to you, but you've already got that one down pat."

Draco's eyebrow lifted a fraction. For a moment they just stared at each other: her challengingly, while his expression seemed torn somewhere between amusement and exasperation. Then he just sighed and held out his closed fist to Billy.

"Yeah!" Billy cried, bumping his fist against Draco's. "Malfoy is in da crew!"

Draco's aristocratic nose scrunched in distaste. Pointedly, he turned away from the younger boy, dismissing him as neatly as an adult does a small child. It was like a modification of that age-old adage: Billys should be seen and not heard. Ginny had to resist the urge to giggle.

"I'll see you later, Weasley," Draco said with a slight nod, and then shoved his hands in his pockets and headed towards the changing rooms.

A crease formed on Ginny's brow as she watched his retreating figure. What had he meant by that? Was he hoping to see her later or had that just been his way of saying goodbye? And why the heck was she analysing his words so much anyway?

Ginny shook her head. She really needed to get a grip.


	3. Chapter 3

It turned out that Draco's 'later' had just been an airy way of saying goodbye. Ginny had refused to admit that she had been disappointed. They were just team mates, after all. It wasn't like she had a claim to him.

Right.

Still, something had shifted in their relationship during the past three weeks. It had been subtle at first: a few civil conversations here and there, a sprinkle of light-hearted teasing and, dare she say it, a modicum of flirting. Nothing life-changing, but the interactions were enough for her to realise that he actually enjoyed her company, even sought it out. That was when she'd noticed that he often found excuses to touch her; light brushes, hands bumping into half clasps when they walked-side-by-side—heck, once he'd even put her hair up for her when she'd had her hands full and had been complaining about it getting in her face (never mind that he could have just taken the boxes from her arms and let her do it herself).

If it was anyone else, Ginny would have thought that he was sending subtle signs that he liked her, you know, in _that_ way. But this was Draco Malfoy. He made everything difficult with his mercurial moods. It was like he had some split personality disorder that divided him between a boy who looked down his nose at everyone around him—especially those with less money—and the charming, "almost friend" who shared inside jokes with her about their team mates and was a surprisingly good listener.

Merlin, he was confusing, but no more so than her own feelings for him.

Ginny sighed and leaned back on her palms, staring up at the vivid blue sky. It was another muggy day. Desperate for relief, she'd rolled up the sleeves on her blouse, loosened her tie, and tied the bottom of her shirt into a bow just under her breasts to bare her midriff. Then, she'd removed her socks and shoes so she could dip her feet in the lake. It still hadn't been enough. Now, a part of her wanted to just jump in the water, but she knew that no amount of sun could warm that murky ice pit. Besides, it was full of Mermen and Grindylows.

"You know, as tragic as your life is, suicide is not the answer," drawled an all too familiar voice.

She flinched in a flutter of shock and quickened heart beats, then turned to face the blond. "You shouldn't joke about such things, Malfoy," she scolded. "It's not nice."

"I know," he agreed. "The Mermen 'Save the Lake' committee would hardly be happy if your freckled body was polluting their home."

Ginny flicked water at him. "Git."

The corners of his mouth curved into the kind of smile that had the power to drop knickers with expert speed: a sexy sort of cheekiness that wasn't sleazy or even calculated—just the wicked grin of a boy who loved to tease and no doubt would carry that trait to the bedroom. Mmm, hot. Thankfully, Ginny managed to retain her knickers (somehow, she didn't think Draco would appreciate the gesture), but it was still a struggle not to drool.

Sometimes, gorgeous males were such a burden to the female population.

Like her, Draco had rolled up his sleeves and had undone the top few buttons on his shirt, giving her a glimpse of just enough smooth, pale skin to make her fingers itch to peel back the rest of the cloth so she could have a good, shameless perve. He'd removed his tie and his hair was more tousled than usual, as if he'd been flying … or had been snogged senseless. Maybe it was the heat of the day getting to her, but he pretty much looked like sex on legs in that moment.

_Bad Ginny, _she scolded herself._ Sex and Malfoy are two words you should never, ever put together. Get a grip, girl._

So she did just that. Firmly putting all fantasies of the blond entwined with her in naked passion aside, she stood up and interlocked her fingers, stretching her arms above her head. "So, what's up?" she asked. "Did you need something?"

Draco took a moment to respond. That was when Ginny realised he had been following the movement of her stretch. In fact, his eyes kept flickering from her face to her body, as if he were trying to be good and keep his gaze above neck-level but he kept getting drawn to her cleavage and toned abdomen. The flutters started back up in her stomach. He was totally checking her out!

Now, she could have done the girly thing and blushed and stuttered and pretended not to notice his scrutiny, but Ginny had a bone to pick with him. She still hadn't forgotten that time he'd mocked her in the locker rooms. It was payback time.

"You know," she said slyly, "for someone who called me flat-chested, you seem awfully fascinated with staring down my top."

His gaze locked with hers in a dart-like reflex, but instead of giving her the startled deer look she had been hoping for, his smile just widened with lazy ease. "You know what they say, Weasley: if the wares are on display, you might as well look, even if they aren't much."

Her cheeks flushed. There were many things she could have done in that moment (there was a particularly nasty jinx she knew that could make one his appendages 'nothing much to look at'), but Ginny wasn't that mean. Instead, she moved with lightning speed, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, then used all of her strength to thrust him towards the lake. Draco only had time to make an odd "mph" sound before he landed with a splash in the dark water. When he emerged, his eyes were narrowed and there was a slimy bit of green weed stuck in his hair.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

Ginny placed her hand on her hip and bent towards him, a wicked little smile of her own playing on her lips. "Oh, I just thought you needed to cool off," she said sweetly. "Enjoy your swim."

With these words, she used her wand to summon her bag, which had her shoes and other belongings tucked away in it. Then she sashayed off towards the castle, leaving a gaping Draco behind. It was a long time before she stopped smiling.

**oOo**

Practice that evening had been interesting, to say the least. Draco seemed to have got over the lake incident, but there was still a level of tension between them that hadn't been there before. It was like they were teetering on the edge of the cliff, all too aware that they found each other attractive, and that all it would take was one unguarded move to send them both plummeting into something neither could control. Fortunately, Endymion was barking instructions left, right and centre, so she was eventually able to focus (mostly) on improving her goal shooting techniques. Nothing much else might have happened that night either had Billy not got it into his head that the team should go out together for some "quality bondage time".

"Don't you mean bonding?" Demelza asked with a frown.

Billy waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever. The point is that I happen to have procured some of Ogden's finest Firewhisky, and I am cordially inviting you all to join us at the Shrieking Shack tonight for some unorthodox fun."

"Who's 'us'?" Ginny asked.

"Coot, Summerby, Smith, Cadwallader, Higgins and, of course, my amazing self."

In other words, practically the whole team. Demelza and Ginny exchanged a glance that was loaded with silent conversation. It went a little like this:

_Are you going to go?_

_I don't know. The boys can be annoying, and that twat Zacharias is going. _

_But it could be fun._

_Yes, it could. Much better than staying in and doing homework, at the very least._

_Okay._

"We'll come," the girls said in unison.

Billy beamed at them. "Great! Now I just gotta go ask Malfoy."

Ginny blinked. "You're going to ask Draco?"

"Of course," Billy said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "He's part of our crew."

Ginny just shook her head. "Good luck."

She didn't think the Slytherin would be caught dead with all of them at the Shrieking Shack. She had been wrong. When she arrived with Demelza and Ritchie at the boarded up house, it was to find the blond already leaning against the fence and having a conversation with the substitute Seeker, Joshua Summerby.

Ginny hated to admit it, but he looked gorgeous. The glow of the moon seemed to make his hair glint with silvery hues, making him seem almost unearthly or like some ethereal prince. Which was ridiculous. Draco was about as ethereal as the giant squid. That boy might be graceful, but he was frustratingly pragmatic and didn't have a whimsical bone in his body.

His gaze met hers for a second, and she had the satisfaction of seeing him give her a quick once-over that could only be described as appreciative. Not that she really understood what he found so fascinating. She'd put no effort into her appearance. Her long red hair was loose and she wore no makeup. True, she'd thrown on a green sundress that flared out at the waist and stopped halfway down her thigh, but she was also wearing an oversized jacket that had quite obviously belonged to one of her brother's. Hardly the epitome of sexy female.

"You look cute," Billy said by way of greeting, coming to stand beside her.

Ginny frowned. Was that it? Did Draco think she looked cute as well? Heck, did she even want to be considered something so patronising as 'cute'?

"Uh, earth to Ginny!"

She blinked as she realised that Billy was waving his hand up and down in front of her face. "Hi," she said with no enthusiasm.

Apparently, it was enough just to acknowledge him. He smiled and then moved on to flirt with Demelza, who actually didn't seem to mind the attention. Ginny and Ritchie shared an amused glance and then headed to sit down where the rest of the team had gathered around a large jar of contained blue flames. In no time at all, she had relaxed and was happily arguing, joking and laughing with the boys. Cups of Firewhisky were being passed around, and Ginny sensed rather than saw when Draco took a seat next to her.

"Evening," he said in his deep, cultured voice.

Ginny had to take a moment to get a hold of herself. Ye gods, he smelt good. She had to resist the urge to shuffle closer.

Ritchie handed her a cup filled with dark liquid. "Here you go, Ginny."

"Thanks," she mumbled, accepting the cup and staring at the contents like she wasn't sure if it would be a life-changing elixir or poison. Truthfully, she'd never actually tried the stuff.

"It's not going to kill you," Draco said with just a trace of amusement.

"I know that," she snapped.

But, still, she felt a bit nervous. Her only consolation was that Demelza looked just as awkward and like she wanted to toss the contents of her cup over her shoulder.

"Bottoms up!" Billy cried, then downed his drink in one gulp.

Ginny took a tentative sip of the amber liquid. And promptly started coughing.

She could hear Draco laughing next to her, but she couldn't even find her voice to tell him to shut up. The whisky was burning her throat—not to mention was the most disgusting stuff she'd ever tasted!

"Ugh!" she gasped, wiping her mouth and staring at the cup accusingly. "That stuff is foul! How can you actually enjoy drinking it?"

Draco smiled. "Practice."

Ritchie looped an arm around her shoulders. "It's cause it's a man's drink."

Her eyebrow lifted. "You can keep it then, since you think you're so manly. That stuff is nasty. I'll just stick with butterbeer, thanks."

"Suit yourself," Ritchie said with a shrug, and took her glass from her.

Needless to say, there ended up being a lot of sloshed students sitting around the fire by the time the third bottle had been opened. Perhaps that was why Billy succeeded in convincing them all to play a game of Truth and Dare. Merlin knew that a more sober Draco would have probably just turned his nose up at such silly antics.

Of course, that was also when everything went to custard.

It was all Zacharias's fault. He just happened to spin the empty Firewhisky bottle so that it landed on Ginny. She had not wanted to risk answering one of his "truth" questions, so she had picked dare, thinking that he couldn't make her do anything too horrible. Her shame was non-existent; she could handle anything.

"I dare you to do a strip tease for the team." A smirk curled his thin lips. "After all, you just love being the centre of attention."

Ginny blinked. Oh. Except that.

"Hey, hey, hey," Ritchie said, trying to be heard over the laughter and wolf-whistles. "Not cool, man. That is going way too far."

"Yeah," Demelza said, looking a little cross-eyed. She had continued to brave the Firewhisky, much to the loss of her coordination. "Don't be gross, Smith."

Zacharias remained unmoved, merely staring at Ginny challengingly. His unspoken words were a taunting whisper in her ear: that she was a coward; that she was just a little girl afraid of doing a _real_ dare.

"Fine," she said, standing up. "I'll do it."

A collective gasp, more wolf-whistles. Ginny ignored them and shrugged off her oversized jacket. Closing her eyes, she reached for the zip on the side of her dress and began dragging it down, slow, slow, slow. Cool air brushed against her skin, making it prickle with goosebumps. Suddenly, she felt long fingers close around her wrist. Her eyes snapped open and she caught a glimpse of blond hair—Draco—before she felt his hand push hers out of the way so he could zip up her dress again. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was already striding towards Zacharias Smith.

"Mal—" the Hufflepuff began, only to be silenced by a fist to the face.

Draco had just punched Zacharias square in the jaw. Of course, that was also when all hell broke loose.

Ginny wasn't really sure what happened, only that a lot of hexes were cast, causing more than a few unpleasant consequences. There was a reason people should not duel while drunk. A few of the boys had been knocked out by stunning spells, Summerby ended up on the ground with warts sprouting all over his face, Demelza's skin had turned green, Billy was now sporting fluffy rabbit ears, and Zacharias Smith had been transfigured into goat. In short, chaos had been unleashed.

"Bleaaaaaah," Zacharias bleated, somehow managing to look haughty even as a furry animal. What a git.

Draco turned to Ginny. "Come on," he practically growled, dragging her away from the shack.

She dug her heels into the ground. "Hey, we just can't leave them like that!"

"Yes, we can," was his sharp response.

It was obvious he was not going to let her go, let alone return to the others. She glowered at his back, all pale and bare under the moonlight. What was with that, anyway? Everyone else had been cursed with horrible afflictions, yet somehow all Draco had managed to do was lose his shirt. Like, really?

"We should go back," she tried again. "Most of them are too drunk to cast counter spells. They need our help, Malfoy."

Suddenly, he stopped. "That's all you can say?"

His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glittering. It occurred to her that he was angry.

Draco advanced on her, trapping her against a tree trunk. She could smell the whisky on his breath. "What the hell is wrong with you, Weasley?" he demanded. "That bastard wanted to make you undress in front of everyone! You could have just turned down the dare, but no—" he gripped her shoulders, looming over her like some furious angel "—you just had to be a dumb, impulsive Gryffindor!"

Ginny's cheeks burned with heat. "What's it to you?" she retorted, clenching her hands into fists. "You sit here lecturing me, but my body is my body, Malfoy. I'll do what I want with it—yes, even do a strip tease for a bunch of drunk boys if I must."

"That's stupid!"

"I don't care!" She raised her chin, face inches from his. "Maybe I like being stupid. Maybe I—"

But she didn't get the rest of her words out. His mouth had crashed against hers, and it was like a fire had been lit inside her. Flames surged through her blood, her limbs, making her body spring to life with a pulsating heat. She felt his tongue sliding along the seam of her lips and she opened her mouth to his, giving him the entrance he so desired and allowing her to taste him with each velvety caress, each blood-tingling kiss. His hands found purchase on her hips, pulling her closer and letting her feel every hard plane, every rapid beat of his heart. She pressed herself even harder against him in response, and they both sighed into the kiss as their bodies brushed against each other in all the right places.

When she pulled back for air, his lips were swollen and his hair a mess. She knew she probably looked the same.

"Okay," Ginny said, trying to catch her breath. "No more strip teases."

"Finally, you're making sense," he said, just as breathlessly.

A pause.

"But we really should go and help the others."

Draco just groaned. "I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

"Nope." She tucked her arm in his with a smile. "They're our team mates, Draco. We have to look after our team mates."

The blond just sighed. "Fine, but I'm not helping that bastard Smith."

Ginny grinned. "Agreed."

That twat could stay as a goat and eat grass for the rest of his life for all she cared. Right now, she just wanted to focus on getting the others safely back to Hogwarts and then enjoying some quality time with Draco Malfoy. She had some fantasies that she wanted to recreate.

Her smile widened. This was going to be a good year.


End file.
